


ashes ashes (dust to dust)

by kusuos



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, At least I think it's a character study, Character Study, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, High School, M/M, MSBY Black Jackals - Freeform, Overarching Metaphors, POV Miya Atsumu, Pining, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Slow Burn, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28444845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kusuos/pseuds/kusuos
Summary: "Because who are you without ashes and dust? That’s where you come from, where you’re forged, where you come out of the flames like a phoenix. Atsumu sometimes feels more like a phoenix than a fox. He wants to fly, wants to be able to go even higher, wants to rise."In which Sakuatsu are oblivious and the authors tries to be poetic
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 5
Kudos: 84





	ashes ashes (dust to dust)

**Author's Note:**

> title from cabo by ricky montgomery, if you enjoyed please leave kudos or a comment (also this isn't betaed or edited so if u catch any mistakes please lmk!)

_ We don’t need the memories.  _

Inarizaki’s motto, repeated like a battle cry before games and like a promise that they’d win the next one when they lost. 

A promise that they’d leave it behind them, that they’d forget. 

Memories are only temporary, Atsumu thinks to himself, we lose them to time in the end. 

They’re like ashes, slipping through his fingers. 

But there are some he manages to hold onto, like the first time he tosses to Osamu and knows, just  _ knows  _ that he’s going to be there to hit it, the time Kita-san leaves him a bag of stuff for when he’s sick, the first match he’d ever won, way back in middle school. 

He keeps them like secrets, like he does with the candy he buys at the corner store as a kid and hides under his mattress so his mother won’t lecture him about how sweets are bad for his health. 

The memories aren’t harmful, he thinks, but he still feels like he’s doing something wrong, like he’s betraying the team, especially Kita-san by holding on. 

Though maybe some things are worth holding onto.

Because who are you without ashes and dust? That’s where you come from, where you’re forged, where you come out of the flames like a phoenix. 

Atsumu sometimes feels more like a phoenix than a fox. He wants to  _ fly,  _ wants to be able to go even higher, wants to rise. 

When he thinks back on it later, he’ll realize that he sees himself in Hinata, which is why he promises he’ll toss to him someday. 

They’re both looking to get to the top, and maybe they can get there together. 

When he reflects back on it, he thinks the insane drive to be remembered comes from being a twin. 

Growing up getting confused with Osamu had made him act out, make sure he was known for who he was, and not just being a Miya. It was the reason he dyed his hair later, the reason he kept playing volleyball. 

As he grew older, it stopped but he never lost the will to last, to build a legacy. 

_ We don’t need the memories,  _ but we can find our way into others’, he had said to Osamu one day, having gotten over his need to outshine his twin and having roped him into his scheme. 

We can be remembered, is what he tells himself each time, what drives the force of every set and dump and serve. 

It’s why he stays on the court, not to prove who’s strongest like Tobio does, but so he’ll be remembered. 

* * *

Atsumu meets Sakusa Kiyoomi in his first year of high school, 

He sees him from across the room, taller and skinnier than almost everyone in the room, shoulders hunched forward, clad in obnoxious highlighter yellow and green, so bright it almost hurts to look at it and a mask over the bottom half of his face. 

He burns, and he knows he’ll hang onto the thought of this boy, whose name he doesn’t even know yet for as long as he can. 

_ We don’t need the memories.  _

He repeats it to himself, whispers it under his breath; a reminder, that he’s not here to fall in love, not that he loves him, but he’s here to get better. 

He’s here to get to the top, to rise above. To get recognition as one of the top high school setters in Japan. 

He walks to the nearest vending machine and gets a bottle of water, just so he can stop thinking about that stupid boy who’s dressed like a neon sign. 

He’s even glowering, he can see it in his eyes only but he knows he is; a mask covers the bottom half of his face. 

He probably thinks he’s too good to be here, or that everyone else isn’t good enough for him. 

Atsumu wants to hate him, but something about him draws him in. 

He overhears a pair of boys in purple uniforms, sees them pointing to and whispering about the curly haired boy. 

Finally, he gets a face to the name.

Sakusa Kiyoomi, Itachiyama’s ace. 

It suits him, he thinks, a pretty name for a pretty face.

_ Shit.  _

He blushes when he realizes that he thinks he’s pretty and covers his face with his hands to hide it. 

He knows he likes boys, had known since he met Kita-san and Osamu took one look at the expression on his face and said, “You like him, don’t you?” 

The pieces fell into place and he realized,  _ oh, I guess I like boys as well.  _

His parents had been okay with it, and Osamu came out after he did and soon got together with Suna. 

He pulls out his phone and texts Osamu. 

**_To: Miya Osamu_ **

**_im too gay for this there are so many pretty boys here help me samu_ **

He doesn't mention that there’s one specific boy who has his attention, he doesn’t want to look too desperate. He gets a reply a few seconds later. 

**_From: Miya Osamu_ **

**_sucks to be you ig,,, what do u want me to do abt it?_ **

**_To: Miya Osamu_ **

**_u useless fuck i hate u_ **

**_From: Miya Osamu_ **

**_hate u too bro <3_ **

With that he turns his phone off and slips it into his pocket. It’s almost time for introductions to start anyways. 

* * *

He watches as Sakusa does a perfect cut shot across the court, his hair floating around his face like a halo as he comes down from the jump. They’ve been put into teams, and he’s with Sakusa and the libero from his team, some short kid named Hoshiumi who’d freakishly talented at everything. 

The ball hits the court with a smack as one of Sakusa’s opponents dives for it, a few seconds too late. 

He can’t help but think he’s ethereal like this, coated in a slight sheen of sweat and panting from exhaustion. 

Fuck Sakusa Kiyoomi and his stupid bendy wrists, fuck him and his curly hair, fuck the two moles he has that rest on top of his left eyebrow. Fuck him for making him feel like this. 

Atsumu wants to hate him so bad, they should be rivals, but he can’t bring himself to do it. 

He’s too intriguing, and he keeps pulling him in like a magnet. Atsumu isn’t one to let himself be pulled in someone else’s direction, but something about Sakusa Kiyoomi changes everything about him, for better or for worse, he can’t tell yet. 

“Nice kill!” he shouts instead of voicing his feelings, and Sakusa nods his thanks. 

He swaps in with the libero from Itachiyama, learning his name is Motoya and gets ready for the whistle to blow. The opposing team is serving, and when the ball comes his way he receives it easily. Someone bumps the ball up and Kageyama runs in for the set. 

“Miya!” he shouts and Atsumu goes in for the spike, a grin on his face. While he loves being a setter and wouldn’t trade his position for the world, there’s something refreshing about hearing the ball slam into the other side of the court. 

The people on his team all mutter “nice kill” and their opponents glare at him through the net. 

The game goes on like that and ends with Atsumu’s team winning. He high fives his teammates, but when he turns to Sakusa he shakes his head. 

“Sorry Miya, I don’t do physical contact.” 

There’s no malice in the words, but something in Atsumu feels hurt by them anyways. Sakusa must see the look in his eyes and says, “It’s not personal.” 

Atsumu nods. 

“Air high five?” he offers with a raise of his hand. 

“Sure,” Sakusa says, holding his hand up, an inch of distance between them. It’s more than everyone else gets, and some part of Atsumu can’t help but feel like he’s doing something right, that this is going to lead to something more. 

* * *

They do serve and receive practice the next day, and Atsumu starts on the receiving side. Sakusa’s up to serve next, and he braces himself for a bone shattering force. 

Instead, he gets a serve that looks like it's spinning out of control, and as soon as he thinks he’s in the right position for it to bump off of his forearms it moves slightly to the side and hits the floor with a small thunk. 

“What the hell, Omi?” he says lightheartedly. 

Sakusa wrinkles his nose at the nickname. “Just call me Sakusa like everyone else does, Miya. Or at least call me Kiyo.” 

“Sakusa’s too long,” he whines. “And plus, I think it’s cute, Omi-Omi.”

“That’s even worse,” he deadpans back. 

Atsumu grins. “You love it.”

“I despise it. And you.” He says it flatly, but there’s a barely noticeable grin on his face and the sight of it feels like a small victory, that out of all the people here, he’s one of the only few who’s managed to make Sakusa Kiyoomi smile. 

* * *

They play together more and more as the camp goes on, and Atsumu can tell that Sakusa’s grown used to his sets. It’s in the slight difference when Houhiumi or one of the others set to him, the way he has to watch the ball instead of trusting that it’ll come right to him like he does when Atsumu sets to him. 

Even though he knows it, Atsumu, ever one for praise, wants to hear it out loud. When it comes to be lunch time, he moves from his usual table and goes to sit with Sakusa and Komori. 

Sakusa glares at him but Komori smiles. Atsumu notices him rubbing his wrists, those special wrists that give his serves and spikes that harsh, impossible to receive spin. 

“What happened, Omi-Omi?” he asks, curiously. Komori laughs at the nickname. 

“They just get sore easily,” he says. “I have hypermobility and EDS so they get stiff sometimes and sometimes joints pop out of place and dislocate themselves.” 

Atsumu frowns. “That sounds nasty.” 

“Yeah,” he mutters back. 

They sit in silence, eating their food for a few minutes, until Atsumu finally decides to ask him. 

“How were my sets today, Omi-kun?” 

Sakusa shrugs. “They were fine. The last one was a little bit high.”

He scoffs. “Fine? My tosses are incredible.” 

“Get your head out of your ass, Miya.” 

Atsumu’s mouth falls open, he didn’t think Sakusa was one for swearing. 

“Okay, okay, I’d say they’re good but your head is big enough already.” 

A genuine smile crosses onto Atsumu’s face. “Thanks Omi-kun.” 

* * *

Soon enough, the camp ends and it’s time for them to say goodbye. He looks around for Sakusa but he isn’t there. He asks Hoshiumi where he is and he says that he and Komori had left early. 

He curses under his breath. He’s not going to see him again until Nationals, and that’s if Inarizaki even makes it. 

It’s kind of pathetic how attached he’s become at this point, he thinks, but some part of him can’t help but miss him already. 

It’s going to be a long few months.

* * *

He spends the time leading up to nationals practicing furiously. The entire team notices he’s different, even Kita-san and Osamu ask if he’s okay. He just nods and goes back to practicing every time they ask, and he knows they’re talking about him behind his back and he can’t bring himself to care. 

Something in him hangs onto the memories of the training camp, of lunch with Sakusa and Komori, of playing different positions, of air high fives after games. He knows it’s ridiculous to pine after someone he’s known for a week, but he does it anyways. 

He’s angry, for no reason, and he’s lonely, and he misses setting for Sakusa. He slams ball after ball into the court, doing jump serve after jump serve. He wants to score more service aces than Sakusa when they face off next, wants to prove to someone, anyone, that he’s better, he wants to reach the top. 

When nationals finally come around, he finds out that they play Itachiyama if they win their first few games. 

It’s easy, effortless, and they come out on top. They cry and hug, and Atsumu feels happier than he has in a long time. 

They rest, and the next day they head out for warmups. Atsumu excuses himself to use the bathroom, and with just his luck, he runs into none other than Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

“Hey,” he mutters, too shy to form a full sentence and too excited to see him that he doesn’t trust himself to not say something embarrassing. 

“Miya,” says Saksua and nods in greeting. “Ready to lose?” 

“Never,” he says back, glad to fall into the familiar banter. 

Sakusa grins. “Good luck, Miya.” 

Atsumu can tell he really means it and raises his eyebrows. 

“I know you’ll need it,” he adds afterwards, and Atsumu can’t help but laugh. 

In the end, they lose the game, but it’s close. The rally is long, and they deuce for a while, Sakusa scoring the last point with that infuriating spin. 

They line up to shake hands. He notices that Sakusa just walks past everyone, doesn’t shake hands or even smile at them.

When he and Atsumu cross paths though, he nods and says, “Good game” 

It’s more than everyone else gets, even the captain, and Atsumu can’t help but feel special, a warmth growing in his chest, like he’s special or something. 

“Good game, Omi-Omi,” he says back, and something in his chest burns at the small smile on Sakusa’s face. 

To anyone else they must look awkward, staring at each other, since both of their movements were so small that the average person wouldn’t notice a change, but Atsumu’s studied his face well enough to know when he’s happy. 

Osamu shoves him forward to shake hands with the next person and the moment breaks away, and Atsumu takes one last look over his shoulder, watching as Sakusa leaves, again.

* * *

He gets invited to the All-Japan training camp in his second year again. He grins at the news, knowing that Sakusa’s going to be there and he’ll be able to see him again. He still remembers how he likes his tosses, the exact height and speed. 

After the two bus rides and one train ride, he arrives at the Ajinomoto National Training Center. He scans the hall where everyone who just arrived is waiting for Sakusa and Komori, and waves to them when he sees them. 

Komori waves back, and Sakusa doesn’t move, but above the mask, his eyes shine a little. 

“Did ya miss my sets, Omi-Omi?” he asks. 

Sakusa rolls his eyes. “Maybe. I’ll never tell you though, Miya.” He can’t see Sakusa’s smile through his mask, but it’s audible in his voice. 

Hearing his name roll off of Sakusa’s tongue is like music to his ears. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed it until he heard it again. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll set to you full time one day. We'll stand on the same side of the court for more than one week a year. I promise you.” 

Sakusa looks over at him. “Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.” 

Atsumu looks back, meeting his eyes fiercely. “I always keep my promises.” 

They sit down on a bench together and wait for the coaches to call them to start doing introductions. 

He’s glad to be back here. 

* * *

On the first day, he offers to help Sakusa with his stretches. He agrees, but makes Atsumu wash his hands first, and asks for help stretching his hips. 

Atsumu blushes but agrees and stands by Sakusa’s side as he lays down and lifts his leg. 

He pushes it towards Sakusa’s body, gently at first, then increasing the pressure. 

Sakusa hums. “Harder, Miya, don’t go easy on me.”

Atsumu almost chokes at the innuendo, but does as he asks. 

By the time he stretches his other leg his face is flushed red and his hands are trembling. 

Sakusa notices, ever observant. “What are you nervous for, Atsu? It’s just me.” 

He notes the nickname, wondering when Sakusa let himself be comfortable around him, then realizes he doesn’t care, he’s just grateful that he is. 

“Sorry, he says, lowering Sakusa’s leg out of the stretch and wiping his hands on his shorts. 

It’s just him, that’s the problem. Atsumu likes him, he likes him so much, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

* * *

There’s new people this year, obviously, but there’s some he’s heard of before. Kageyama Tobio, the genius setter from Karasuno with the freaky quick everyone talks about, catches his eye. He watches as he sets an impossibly fast toss to Sakusa and says, “Sorry, force of habit.” 

Atsumu can’t wait to see him in action with his usual spiker. 

Later, he tries to give him a compliment and calls him a goody two shoes, but he takes it the wrong way and takes it to heart. 

When he’s sitting with Sakusa and Komori for dinner, Sakusa says, “You didn’t have to be so hard on him, you know.” 

Atsumu stammers. “I was  _ not, _ I was trying to give him a compliment, Omi.” 

He hmms and turns back to his food. 

They spend the rest of dinner laughing and cracking jokes. Atsumu watches as Sakusa gets up to put his tray away and then walks over to Tobio’s table. He asks why Shiratorizawa lost, but something in the way he asked seems off. 

He called Ushijima Wakatoshi-kun. The honorific and use of his given name surprises him. He didn’t know they were close. 

He decides he’ll ask him later, but he’s distracted by Sakusa storming off at something Tobio said and chases after him. 

“It’s nothing,” he says when Atsumu asks, but it was definitely something. 

By the time the training camp ends, he forgets to ask what his relationship to Ushijima is and as he takes the train home, the question bounces around in his mind. 

* * *

They lose to Karasuno at nationals. He doesn’t even get a chance to see Sakusa, let alone play against him and he feels crushed at the fact. It was a long game, and the strain of being in the whole time wears down on him. 

_ We don’t need the memories. _

He repeats the saying to himself for the first time in a while. He’d been holding on, to memories, to Sakusa Kiyoomi, to ashes, but now it was time to let go again. Thinking about his failure, about how he lost his chance for a rematch with Sakusa’s team, how he’d fucked everything up, would only hurt him more. 

And yet he makes a promise to Shoyo-kun, that he’s going to set to him one day. It feels like a betrayal to Sakusa, but it also feels right, like something’s finally falling into place. 

After shaking hands and thanking their supporters, he heads out back to the hall, finding the nearest vending machine and grabbing a sports drink. 

He leans against the wall and drinks it, still exhausted and wraps his track jacket tighter around him to shield him from the chill of the air conditioning. He does a double take when Sakusa walks up to him, clad in his own track jacket. 

He’s even more surprised when Sakusa doesn’t say a word, just places his hand on Atsumu’s shoulder and rubs it comfortingly. After a while, he says “I’m sorry,” and Atsumu just nods, not knowing what to say and not wanting to ruin the moment. It’s the first time Sakusa’s touched him first, and he doesn’t want to read too much into it, but his mind is already racing. 

Atsumu looks down, feeling the urge to cry. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, they were supposed to have their rematch, they were supposed to have time together, supposed to grin at each other through the net, and act like they weren’t admiring the others’ form even though their teams were opponents. 

“There’s always next year,” says Sakusa. From anyone else it would sound fake, but coming from him he can tell it’s genuine. 

“Yeah. I’ll beat you next year, Omi,” he mumbles through the tears, saying it like a promise. 

Sakusa pulls him into a quick hug his arms warm around him. “I’ll hold you to that Atsumu.” 

Then he walks away, leaving him to process whatever the fuck just happened. 

* * *

He gets invited to the All-Japan youth training camp again. He hasn't talked to Sakusa since whatever that was at nationals and he’d refused to give Atsumu his number again, and even though he wouldn’t let himself admit it (he wouldn’t even let himself think about Sakusa, because what’s the point in thinking about someone who probably didn’t miss you back, someone you don’t even have a chance with), he’d missed him. 

“Omi-Omi!” he shouts as soon as he sees him, and Sakusa glares at him above his mask. Atsumu revels in it, having missed seeing his face, watching the two moles above his left eyebrow rise when his face scrunches up.

Atsumu realizes that he’s drawn the attention of everyone else in the hall and mutters a small apology. 

Sakusa just sighs and adjusts his mask. “I thought you’d drop the stupid nickname, but I guess I was wrong.” 

He huffs. “My nicknames are  _ not  _ stupid, you should be honored I’ve given you one, I don’t give them out to just anybody.” 

Sakusa rolls his eyes. “I bet you give nicknames to all the good spikers.” His tone is light so he knows that he’s teasing him. 

Atsumu’s response is serious anyways. “Nah, only to you, Omi-kun.” 

Something in Sakusa’s expression softens at the words, and the two of them fall into a comfortable, familiar silence. After almost three years, they’re used to being in each other's company, the quiet a welcome embrace. 

He puts a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder, surprising him. They don’t usually touch each other, except for the one time he’d let Atsumu help him with his stretches, they don’t even high five during games. 

* * *

He watches as Sakusa sanitizes his hands after carefully dropping his dirty clothes into a plastic bag. It’s curious, all of Sakusa’s little habits, the way he drums his fingers along the side of his thigh before he touches things sometimes, the way he keeps everything clean.

“Why are you like that?” he asks, not thinking of the phrasing and as soon as he says it, he realizes how rude it sounds. “Not like in a bad way,” he adds, “I mean like with the cleaning stuff, and the wearing a mask all the time.” 

Sakusa takes a deep breath in, then speaks.

“I have OCD, obsessive compulsive disorder. Basically, it makes me think and do things differently, and I have intrusive thoughts, which are when thoughts get kind of stuck in your brain. I was sick a lot as a kid so a lot of my intrusive thoughts have to do with germs and the fear of them.” 

Atsumu feels bad for every thought he’s ever had about Sakusa being weird or a clean freak. 

“I’m sorry Omi, I didn’t know.” 

He looks at him, and Atsumu looks back. It’s kind of weird to see him without a mask when they’re not on the court together and he can’t help but stare at the pink of Sakusa’s lips. 

“It’s not like I tell everyone, I don’t want you to pity me. In fact, you’re the first person I’ve told besides my coaches and Komori.” 

Atsumu feels honored in some sort of way, that Sauksa feels like they’re close enough for him to tell him something like that. 

“Thank you for trusting me with this, Kiyoomi,” he says, using Sakusa’s full name for the first time. 

Sakusa’s voice grows softer and quieter. “I trust your sets, and I trust you not to tell anyone, Atsumu. Don’t let me down.”

He finished sanitizing his stuff and they walk out of the bathroom together 

* * *

They play differently after that, more in sync, and Atsumu  _ knows  _ that Sakusa will be there to hit his tosses when he sends them to him. 

It’s the type of connection he only has on the court with Osamu, and he doesn’t know what this means for them. Sakusa even lets him high five him after he hits a particularly good spike, and doesn’t let anyone else touch him. 

Atsumu stays late for individual practice, the only other person still left in the gym with him is Tobio. 

He practices tosses, lining up water bottles and trying to knock them over to practice his accuracy. He hits toss after toss, and the balls hit the bottles, then the floor floor with a thunk and a crunch, spaced out every few seconds. 

After almost half an hour of that, Tobio asks, “What’s on your mind?” 

Atsumu stares at him blankly. 

“It’s just that I do the same thing when I need to think, I practice tosses by myself. I do it mostly when I’m thinking about Hinata, actually,” he says sheepishly. 

“Hinata?” 

“My spiker,” he says, and there’s a warmth in his voice he hasn’t from him before. “I-- um, I think I like him, you know like,  _ like,  _ him, and I’m trying to think of a way to confess. I miss him, I feel bad he wasn’t invited, he deserved to be, he deserves a lot actually.” 

He trails off, embarrassed. 

Atsumu almost sighs in relief. There’s someone who’s in the same position, someone he can talk to. 

He laughs a small laugh. “I guess we’re in the same situation, Tobio.” 

Tobio, ever observant stares right into his eyes and says, “It’s Sakusa isn’t it?” 

He nods. It’s Sakusa, and probably always will be. 

* * *

They’re the last two left in the locker room, just done with changing out of their practice clothes. 

Atsumu’s frustrated, they hadn’t been able to connect their tosses and spikes and Sakusa had insisted that there was something wrong with his sets. He just wants to know what’s between them, what the outcome of their blurred lines is. 

“Omi-kun,” Atsumu starts. “When are we going to stop dancing around this?” 

Sakusa’s eyes drop to the floor and Atsumu swears they grow a shade darker. “I don’t know what you mean by that.” 

“Oh really?” says Atsumu. “Then what the hell are we doing here,  _ Sakusa.  _ What even  _ are we  _ anymore? ” The use of his last name cuts through the air like a knife through butter. He’s never called him anything but Omi before. “Stop leading me on, stop treating me like you’re into me, then leaving the next day.” His voice rises with every word. 

“Shut the fuck up Miya, you have no idea what you’re talking about.” He walks closer to him, forcing Atsumu to walk backwards until he’s backed against a locker. 

They’re close, impossibly close, closer than they’ve ever been before, and he stares up at Sakusa’s face, zeroing in on the two moles above his left eyebrow. 

He thinks he’s going to kiss him, and if he isn’t, he decides he’ll press their lips together anyways, just to shut him up. They’re in the middle of an argument, but that’s never stopped him before, and the two of them are anything but conventional. 

“Atsumu,” Sakusa says, voice low, and  _ oh shit,  _ he’s using his given name again, he has no idea the things that does to Atsumu, and he’s looking at him intensely, dark eyes burning into him. 

Sakusa places a hand on the side of his neck, then as soon as it happens, and Atsumu thinks, ‘this is it’, he drops it. “I’m sorry,” Sakusa says. “I can’t do this right now.” 

Atsumu doesn’t know what to say, he thinks if he tries to speak he’ll just end up crying, and stares at Sakusa’s back as he leaves the room. It’s almost a familiar sight now, a pair of hunched shoulders covered with a highlighter colored track jacket walking away from him. 

* * *

At least this year, Sakusa had  _ finally  _ given him his phone number. 

“Only text me if it’s related to volleyball,” he says as he presses a folded up piece of paper into Atsumu’s hand. His skin tingles as their fingers brush. 

As he rides the train home, his bag resting on the seat next to him, he sends a text to Sakusa. 

**_To: Sakusa Kiyoomi_ **

**_hey_ **

He’s a little scared after what happened in the locker room, but he acts like everything is fine, and hopes that Sakusa will too. He doesn’t want to ruin another one of the only good things he has left, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do without him. 

**_From: Sakusa Kiyoomi:_ **

**_Hello. This isn’t volleyball related._ **

Atsumu lets out a laugh. The old lady sitting across from him stares at him but he doesn’t care. He’s wanted this for so long, nothing can bring him down. 

**_To: Sakusa Kiyoomi_ **

**_im just bored, omi, give me a break_ **

**_From: Sakusa Kiyoomi_ **

**_Why me? I’m not even entertaining._ **

Of course Sakusa texts with punctuation. He smiles down at his phone, to everyone else on the train he probably looks lovestruck. Maybe there’s still a chance, maybe he didn’t ruin everything by trying to confront him. 

**_To: Sakusa Kiyoomi_ **

**_cus i like you_ **

**_From: Sakusa Kiyoomi_ **

**_Why?_ **

It’s always questions with Sakusa, the curious motherfucker. He doubts himself too much, and Atsumu feels for him, knowing that it takes a lot to get someone to not trust themselves like that. 

**_To: Sakusa Kiyoomi_ **

**_bc ur interesting, omi omi, take the damn compliment_ **

**_From: Sakusa Kiyoomi_ **

**_It’s not much of a compliment coming from you, Miya._ **

He laughs out loud again, louder this time. He keeps texting Sakusa, and before he knows it, he’s home, and the almost kiss is out of his mind.

* * *

He finds out Osamu plans to quit volleyball after high school. Some part of him had always known, had known since he’d gone to the All-Japan youth camp without him, but it still hurts to think that he’s going to have to relearn to know that the ball is going to be hit when he tosses it, relearn the certainty that he only consistently had with his twin. 

He’s happy for him though. He has something he loves and he has Suna, how he also loves and he’ll be okay. 

Even ashes and dust last forever, he thinks. They just separate, fly every which way, fall into the depths of the earth to start something new. 

He knows deep down that they’ll stand on the court again together someday, may it be at the olympics or at a local gym, or maybe on the beach, where he’s heard Shoyo is going after he graduates. 

He trusts his gut and his intuition, it’s what makes such a good setter. 

Hell, he’s going to miss Osamu, even though he’d never admit it to his face. 

But maybe it’s time to find a new spiker, someone new to set to. 

A certain curly haired boy who’s the ace of Itachiyama comes into his mind. 

He knows it’s not possible, that Sakusa’s going to college and not straight to the pros like he is, but he can hope, and wait. He’ll wait as long as he needs to, just to be able to set to him again. 

* * *

In his third year, Atsumu makes team captain. Osamu acts surprised and pokes fun at him and so does the rest of the team, even Kita-san texts him jokingly that he couldn't believe his eyes when he got the news, but he knows his team has his back and supports him fully. 

When they finally get their rematch, Inarizaki loses to Itachiyama at spring nationals. 

Atsumu plays the hardest he can, he’s the captain, he has to set a good example, and it’s his last official game with Osamu by his side. They both play their best, but Itachiyama has better stamina and they come out on top. 

Sakusa doesn’t shake hands with anyone but Atsumu.

Everybody stares, even the Itchiyama team, and Osamu gives him a look that screams “tell me everything or I’ll never cook for you again”. 

Atsumu grins. 

“Does this make me special, Omi-Omi?” 

Sakusa glares at the nickname, but there’s a slight quirk in his lips that Atsumu has come to learn means that he’s amused. 

“Your ego is already inflated enough, Miya, you don’t need anyone else telling you you’re special,” he responds. They haven’t let go of the handshake, and to everyone else, it must look like they’re holding hands. 

“It’s different when it comes from you, Omi,” Atsumu says shyly. 

“Beat me next time, whenever we meet again, and then I’ll tell you you’re special.” 

Atsumu grins wickedly. 

“Bring it on.” 

Sakusa nods, and then finally notices that they’re still holding hands, and drops his hand like it’s burned him. 

Atsumu mourns the loss of contact as he jogs over to where the rest of the team is waiting, but still staring at him. 

“Since when are you friends with Sakusa Kiyoomi?” Aran asks, and Atsumu doesn’t even know the answer to that himself. 

Are they friends? What even defines a friendship, where do the lines that connect them go? Does a week of standing on the same court make a bond between the both of you or do you just move on?

He knows what Kita-san would say, what their coach would. 

_ We don’t need the memories.  _

Maybe he’s starting to doubt the phrase that’s gotten him this far, the one he repeats in his head like a mantra after every loss to keep the tears away, and after every win to keep the force of the victory from getting to his head.

Maybe he needs these memories, wants to hold onto them.

But after letting go for so long, ashes are hard to hold onto, 

“Atsumu?” Aran says, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“I don’t know, I don’t even know what we are.” 

Aran doesn’t respond, just claps a hand onto Atsumu’s shoulder and rubs reassuring circles into it. 

Atsumu doesn’t know why he needs to be reassured or why he feels like something in him is falling apart, but he’s thankful for the touch. 

The rest of the team starts peppering him with questions. 

Their voices fade into the background, a steady rush in Atsumu’s ears. One voice, Osaumu’s, stands out. “I can’t believe that  _ asshole _ refused to shake hands with the rest of us.” 

Atsumu feels an urge to defend Sakusa, even to his brother, and speaks up. “He’s a germaphobe, he hates touching things without gloves.” 

“Oh?” says Osamu. “Then why’d he shake your hand?”

He shrugs, but one look from Osaumu lets him know that it’s not a good enough answer. He sighs. “I met him at the All-Japan training camp. He liked my sets.” 

Osamu’s mouth falls open. “Sakusa Kiyoomi, one of the top three high school aces in all of Japan  _ liked your sets? _ ” His voice gets higher with each word. “You’ve gotta be lyin, ‘Tsumu, there’s no way, your sets fucking suck.” 

Atsumu knows that he’s teasing him but he goes with it and banters back. “Shut up, you dumb scrub, you know damn well that my tosses are the best.” 

His twin rolls his eyes, but grudgingly agrees, running a hand through Atsumu’s hair and ruffling it. “Love ya, ‘Tsumu,” he mutters. 

Atsumu laughs and says, “Everyone loves me.” 

Osamu sputters. “‘Tsumu you bastard, I said I love ya, say it back.” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

Osamu elbows him sharply. “Fine, I love ya too, ‘Samu.” 

Even though they fight sometimes, Atsumu is grateful for his brother, his best friend. If everything goes to shit, at least they’ll have each other. 

* * *

He lied. He fucking hates his brother. He’s a waste of sperm cells. 

Atsumu finally tells him how he and Sakusa know each other, tells him that he’s pretty sure he likes him and he’s fucking  _ laughing.  _

“Oh my god,” he says, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Remember when you sent me that text that was like ‘there’s so many pretty boys here I don’t know what to do!’? Was that about him?” 

Atsumu groans a no and covers his face, but the red flush that covers it gives him away. 

Osamu cackles, and Atsumu elbows him in the side. When he finally stops laughing, he looks at him seriously. “You should tell him. If you never tell him then he’ll never know, and you’ll never have a chance.” 

Atsumu shakes his head, and his brother pokes him. 

“Come on, ‘Tsumu, it worked for me and Rin.” 

He inhales and exhales deeply, trying to find the words to explain what he feels. 

“I don’t wanna lose him, ‘Samu, I don’t wanna scare him away. I’d rather just be friends than not be able to have him at all” 

His brother turns to face him, putting a hand on his arm to comfort him. 

“If he’s good enough for you to like him this much, he’ll take it well.” 

Atsumu sighs. 

“I’ll tell him one of these days.” 

* * *

It’s only days later that he realizes that he’s not going to be seeing Sakusa anytime soon. They’re both graduating, Atsumu going to the pros, and Sakusa going to Chuo University. 

As they move on, they text each other sporadically, but never about anything meaningful. 

Atsumu sends him videos of him practicing sometimes, Sakusa just leaves him on read. 

It’s painful, like this, like watching him walk away from him that time in the locker room, where they’d almost kissed. 

He sends a text to Sakusa, something dull about university, just as an excuse to talk to him, but he never replies. 

Is this what his life is now? Sending texts to a boy who’s never liked him back anyways, who’s never thought of him as special the way he thinks of him. 

_ Pathetic.  _

He repeats Inarizaki’s motto to himself again. 

_ We don’t need the memories.  _

He doesn’t need Sakusa, he can learn how to move on. 

As soon as he says it, even only in his head, it feels like a lie. 

* * *

Finally, Atsumu decides on joining the MSBY Black Jackals in Osaka. He’s sad to move away from home, but the team has some amazing players, and maybe a change of scenery is just what he needs. 

He makes the team, easily, and works his way onto the starting lineup. 

He’s been on the team for almost two years, watched players come and go. Shoyo joined the team last year, and he was finally able to set to him like he promised. They’re a great team, but something in him still misses setting to Sakusa. 

He knows it’s kind of scary to be this infatuated, to care this much for someone he’d only seen for two weeks a year, someone who wouldn’t even give him his number until they’d known each other for three years, but he feels like he’s known him forever, and their interactions, while few, have been meaningful. 

Plus, Sakusa seems more open towards him than he is towards most people, which has to mean something. 

He leaves the dorms dressed in his training gear and heads down to the gym. They have tryouts today, for people looking to join the team. He always enjoys watching others play, trying to see what he can learn from them. 

And some part of him hopes to see a certain head of curly hair among the hopefuls each year. 

He thinks he’s dreaming when this year, he actually sees Sakusa there, clad in a black track jacket (he finally ditched the highlighter yellow), and a mask covering the bottom half of his face. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He’s so surprised that the words come out of his mouth without him realizing and as soon as he hears what he’s said he claps a hand over his mouth in shock. 

Sakusa stares at him. 

“I thought you’d be happy to see me, Miya.” 

He runs a hand through his bleached hair. It’s a few shades lighter now than it was when he was in high school. 

“I am, sorry Omi, I was just shocked to see you here.” 

Sakusa nods. “Well, you did tell me you were going to set for me someday, that we’d stand on the same side of the court together for longer than a week. ‘I always keep my promises,’” he says in what is actually a pretty good impression of Atsumu’s voice. “Remember?” 

“Yeah,” he says back. “I remember everything.” 

He walks back to where the rest of the Jackals are watching the hopefuls warm up, not taking his eyes off of Sakusa. 

He looks different, more sure of himself, and he doesn’t slouch anymore. It suits him, and Atsumu can’t help but think he looks better than ever. 

Of course Sakusa makes the team, bowing and introducing himself to the coach Foster and the MSBY Black Jackals. 

He doesn’t meet Atsumu’s eyes, but as they leave at the end of the day, he waves him goodbye. 

Atsumu doesn’t know what to do with all of these mixed signals. 

* * *

They fall somewhat easily back into their old routine. It’s different, now that they see each other for more than ten days a year, and they even live in the same building, but they still bicker, still see who can score the most service aces each game. 

Atsumu still helps him stretch, blushing when his hands wrap around Sakusa’s thigh when Sakusa groans at the pain. 

They practice serves together, Atsumu working on his jump floater hybrid and Sakusa practicing his spinning spike serves. 

It’s still hard to see him this close after so many years, after him leaving over and over again, but at the same time he’s happy that his promise is fulfilled, that they get to play on the same team and Atsumu gets to be  _ his  _ setter. 

He’s glad he just gets to have this again. 

* * *

They face the Schweiden Adlers, and Atsumu is buzzing with energy. 

It’s probably the best game Atsumu’s ever played in his twenty two year long life, the rush is there and he feels like part of a working machine, coming together with his teammates. 

He’s on the court with some of the best players in Japan, people he’d admired in high school and seen in issues of Volleyball Monthly. 

It feels like a prize, like some accumulation of everything he’s worked for. 

When they win, he’s so excited that he holds up a hand to high five Sakusa, used to physical affection with all of his teammates. 

He’s surprised when Sakusa accepts it and slaps their palms together. He’s even more surprised when after, Sakusa laces their fingers together, so they’re holding hands in the space between them. 

“Atsumu,” he says, so softly that Atsumu can barely hear it. 

They stay like that for a few seconds, until Sakusa drops his hand and turns away and walks back to the rest of the team. 

* * *

Atsumu’s so excited about their win over the Adlers that he almost forgets his and Sakusa’s competition to see who can score the most service aces. 

They compare their counts, and it turns out that Sakusa wins. 

Usually, the loser buys the winner lunch or dinner, but they were going out to eat with the rest of the team to celebrate their win. 

“Well Omi-kun, what do you want as your prize, then? I can just take you out tomorrow or—“ 

He was cut off by Bokuto. “Did I hear that right? Tsum-Tsum do you and Kiyo-kun have a date?” 

Sakusa's face flushed bright red, and Atsumu started stammering. Since his teammate was incoherent and looked like he was going to combust, Sakusa replied for him. 

“It’s nothing like that, Bokuto-kun, it’s just what we do for the winner of our service ace competition.”

The words hurt, Atsumu thought, for Sakusa just dismissed what he desperately wanted to be true. 

“Yeah,” he seconded, something defeated in his voice. 

“Oh,” said Bokuto, not sounding convinced. “Sorry. I just thought—“ 

Atsumu sighed. “It’s fine, Bokkun.” 

With that, he left the locker room, a distant look in his eyes. It almost mirrors the way he’d walked away after their almost kiss in their third year of high school, and Atsumu counts another time he’s had to watch Sakusa walk away. 

* * *

“And his spikes were terrifying,” said Hinata excitedly, describing one of their opponents from earlier. “They were like  _ wham  _ and  _ gwah _ and they were so hard to receive.”

Sakusa hummed, Atsumu watched him from across the table. 

“My ex boyfriend played like that,” Sakusa said nonchalantly, and Atumu almost spat out the water he was taking a sip of. 

Everyone stared at him and Sakusa realized what he’d just revealed to the team. 

“Shit,” he muttered, looking down at his hands. 

Hinata, as kind as ever, rested a hand on Sakusa’s shoulder and patted it. “It’s okay Sakusa-san, I’m pretty sure that most of the people on our team are gay anyways.” 

“Yeah,” Atsumu said, trying to reassure him. “I mean Shoyo-kun’s with Tobio, Bokkun’s with Akaashi, and I’m single but I like boys too.” 

Sakusa stared at him, a small smile creeping onto his face, but there was something cold in his eyes. 

“Thanks, Miya.” 

Atsumu had to hold himself back from flinching at the use of his last name. Sakusa has been calling him Atsumu for a few weeks now, and he was shocked to hear it come out, especially in this situation. 

“Any time, Omi-Omi,” he said instead of the million questions he had rattling around in his head now. 

They sit in silence for a while, until Hinata spoke. 

“So who was it? Your ex I mean. Is it someone we know?” 

Sakusa hesitates, but then says his name. “It was Ushijima.” 

Everyone who’s sitting at their table looks shocked, and Sakusa says, “What,” pointedly. 

“You mean Ushijima from the Schweiden Adlers?” Hinata says. 

“Ushijima as in Japan’s cannon Ushijima? Bokuto adds. 

He nods. “We dated in my third year and then for one year after that. He’s in a relationship with Tendou Satori now though, they played on the same team in high school.” 

“The guess monster!” says Hinata. “ I remember him, his blocks were so scary.” 

Atsumu’s still shocked, but he schools his face into a more pleasant expression. This cant be easy for Sakusa to talk about and the last thing he wan to do is upset him.

“That’s so cool,” says Shoyo. “Did you practice together? Me and Kagyama do that sometimes and it’s so fun to play volleyball with someone you love.”

_ Love.  _

Atsumu freezes when he hears the words, it just sinks in that while they were at the All-Japan youth camp, when he’d almost kissed Sakusa, he’d been with someone else. 

He’d loved someone else the whole time and Atsumu had been too blind to see it, too caught up by his own feelings to realize that Sakusa wasn’t interested. 

“Yeah, it is,” Sakusa mutters, not looking at Atsumu. 

It makes him think. Does he even love Sakusa? Does wanting someone for years mean that you’re in love with them or does it mean he’s just a hopeless romantic? He doesn’t know, doesn’t know anything anymore, it feels like he’s just been plunged into cold water. 

He can’t be in love with his teammate, it would ruin everything. Yes, he’s like Sakusa for a long time, but there’s a difference between like and love, and love ruins all, or whatever the saying is, and one day Sakusa’s going to move on or never love him back and it’ll hurt the team. Hell, it would ruin the way they play together, the unique chemistry that they have on the court. 

And Atsumu doesn’t even  _ do  _ love, he does one night stands and flings and he never stays in a relationship for more than a few months. He doesn’t have time for this, he doesn’t even think he has the emotional capacity to devote himself to one person right now. 

But what if that person’s Sakusa? Would he make an exception? The thoughts rattle around in his head, repeating until he doesn’t even know how he feels anymore. 

_ Fuck. _

“Tsum-Tsum? You okay, buddy?” 

The question comes from Bokuto, who’s staring at him with a worried expression on his face. 

Atsumu nods, not trusting himself to say anything. 

For the rest of the night he’s more subdued than usual, he gets drunk and hangs off of Shoyo until Sakusa says that he’s wasted and drags him home. 

He has an arm around Atsumu to steady him, and all Atsumu can think about is how nice it feels and how he’ll never get to have this. 

* * *

Sakusa stays in his dorm room, saying he needs to make sure that Atsumu doesn’t choke on his own vomit later, that he’s too irresponsible to be left alone. 

They sit on the couch and watch a movie, some action film that had come out the year before that neither of them are paying attention to. 

Eventually, Atsumu stops leaning against Sakusa and just puts his head in his lap, and lets out a small whine as Sakusa starts absentmindedly carding his finger through his bleached hair. 

“I didn’t know you liked men,” Sakusa says after a while, and Atsumu freezes internally. 

Sakusa doesn’t say anything else, so he has to answer. He could pretend to pass out drunk, but he would feel bad for lying to Sakusa later, so instead he just says, “Yeah, I’ve known for a long time that I was bi.” 

The curly haired spiker makes a  _ mmh  _ noise, and they don't talk about it, or anything else, eventually falling asleep on Atsumu’s couch together. 

* * *

He wakes up wrapped in Sakusa’s arms, and for a second he thinks he’s still dreaming. He tries to sit up and accidentally elbows Sakusa in the face, who wakes with a groan. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he says.

“It’s fine, Sakusa replies. 

Atsumu looks at the position they’re in and thinks. “We didn’t  _ do  _ anything last night, right?” 

Sakusa looks spaced out, but says, “No, we didn’t.” 

“Good, because I would hate to come onto you drunk, Omi.” 

“Would you hate to come onto me otherwise?” Sakusa asks. He doesn’t know what possesses him to say it, maybe it’s the morning sleepiness, or the leftover confidence from their win yesterday, but he says it. 

Atsumu gapes at him. 

“Well? Answer the question, Miya.” 

“N- no,” he stutters shyly. 

“Good,” Sakusa replies. “Because I like you, I have for the longest time, Atsumu. And I’m sick of waiting, of us avoiding this like it’s--” 

Atsumu doesn’t wait for him to finish his sentence, and crashes their lips together. Sakusa kisses him back gently, and it’s better than the dozens of kisse he’s had before, it’s the best feeling in the world. 

He feels like he’s flying, or like he’s been set on fire. 

He deepens the kiss, biting down on Sakusa’s bottom lip, who lets out a small moan. 

He pulls away, panting. 

“Sorry, I didn’t ask, was that okay?” Atsumu says. He wants to make sure Saksua is comfortable with this, that he really wants this too. 

Sakusa smiles. “It was more than okay.” 

Their lips come together again, and Atsumu feels more alive than he has in a long time. 

* * *

They’re sitting in the park, their intertwined hands resting in the space between them, having just finished the dinner portion of their date. It’s not like it’s their first, that had been a week ago, but they’re still careful around each other, like if they do even the slightest thing wrong, what they have is going to end. 

Atsumu wants this, wants it so bad that it scares him, and he doesn’t know what to do with that feeling. 

Their relationship is just another thing he’ll have to try and hold onto, the way he holds onto memories and ashes and dust. 

Sakusa breaks the cold silence they’ve been sitting in, the quiet biting colder than the freezing winter weather.

“Atsumu, if we’re going to do this, there’s some things we have to talk about.” 

His mind starts racing. They’ve only been together for less than ten days, it’s not like Sakusa is going to break up with him already, right? ‘Please don’t let me lose this,’ he thinks to himself. 

“I’m not going to be a good person to be with, I can be mean, and jealous, and hard to handle, especially with my OCD.” He takes a deep breath in. “You have to be sure you want this or else--” 

Atsumu cuts him off. “Kiyoomi. I’m sure. If I didn’t want this we wouldn’t be here right now. I’ve been around you before, and there’s nothing to deal with.”

Sakusa just nods and carries on. 

“I’m sorry for leaving so many times,” he says. Atsumu just stares at him, waiting for some shitty apology. “When people leave you so often it’s the only thing you learn how to do.” 

His eyes go wide. That wasn’t what he was expecting. Sakusa isn’t one to apologize. 

“And I’m sorry I let what happened to me get in the way of us for so long.” Sakusa laughs dryly. “To think that we could’ve been doing this for so much longer.” 

Atsumu laughs too. “It’s not like we were doing  _ nothing  _ either. We just danced around each other.” He smiles. “You’re an idiot, Omi-Omi.” 

“But you picked me anyways.” 

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice softening. “I did.” 

He wraps his arms around Sakusa, who’s moved so that he’s sitting in his lap, and presses a kiss to his forehead. 

They stay like that for a while, leaning on each other, basking in each other’s warmth. Together, they can barely feel the cold. 

* * *

Atsumu woke first. 

It was early, a few hours before practice started and he was barely able to make out the shape of Sakusa sleeping next to him, the morning light just starting to seep through the blinds. 

He watched Sakusa’s chest rise and fall for a while, enjoying the way the half light painted his face in shadows. He always thought he was beautiful, but there was something ethereal about the way he looked when he was asleep, 

Atsumu stroked his fingers through Sakusa’s curly hair, humming what he remembered of the Inarizaki fight song. 

As the time passed, and it got closer to the time they usually woke, Sakusa began to stir, eventually turning to face him and mumble a sleepy, “What time is it?” 

“Well good morning to you too,” Atsumu said, a half smile on his lips. 

“Shut up, ‘Tsumu,” he retorted. 

Atsumu grinned and leaned down to kiss him, first on the forehead, right on the moles just above his left eyebrow, and then softly on the lips. 

Sakusa kissed him back, a gentle pressure against his mouth. 

After kissing him slowly for a while, Atsumu broke the kiss and said, “Well since you asked, we have half an hour until we have to get ready.”

The dark haired man glared at him. 

“Shut up and keep kissing me.” 

Atsumu snorted. “And they say  _ I’m  _ the rude one,” but bent back down to press their lips together again. 

They stayed like that, the kisses getting more heated until Sakusa is the one to pull away this time. “Atsu, we really have to go. We’re going to be late and there is  _ no way  _ I’m going to explain to the team what we were doing and why we were late together.” 

Atsumu sighs, but concedes and they get ready for practice, Atsumu admiring Sakusa’s abs as he pulls his shirt over his head. 

* * *

“We don’t need the memories,” he says out loud, so quiet that Sakusa can barely hear him.

The two of them have been together for almost two months now, and Atsumu thinks he’s finally ready to tell him how he feels. 

They’re in Atsumu’s room at the MSBY dorms, having just gotten out of a long practice match with a university team. 

“What?” he says, confused. 

“Inarizaki’s motto. That’s what I used to tell myself everyday, what kept me from getting attached, what let me move on so fast. But I think it’s useless now.”

Sakusa raises his eyebrows. His face has barely moved but Atsumu knows him well enough to tell that he’s surprised. 

“How so?” he asks, prompting Atsumu to continue. 

“I want to make memories with you. I don’t want to move on, I like where we are now, I love it, actually.” 

A small smile sneaks its way onto Sakusa’s face. 

“I’d like that too.” 

Atsumu looks shocked, like he didn’t know Sakusa would agree. As if Sakusa hadn't been with him for almost three years, hadn’t kept in contact with him even though most found him insufferable, texting him and occasionally calling him for nothing. 

He’s one of the only people that Sakusa lets touch him, and one of the only people he’s close to besides Komori and his sisters. 

“Atsumu-“ 

He notes the use of his given name. Sakusa doesn’t use it all the time, saves it for special occasions but over the years he’s been using it more and more. 

Sakusa continues. “Did you really think that I would say anything else? It’s been you for years, only you. We’ve already made memories together, have been making them ever since the training camp. And it’s a stupid fucking motto anyways.”

Atsumu laughs but his voice cracks with emotion in the middle of it. 

“Kiyoomi,” he says shakily, and then pulls him into a kiss to express the things he can’t say but desperately wants to. 

His lips press against his, the pressure familiar and comforting. He deepens the kiss and changes the angle; they continue to kiss until Sakusa pulls away breathless to mutter his name. 

“I love you,” Atsumu says, finally it feels like he’s been waiting centuries to say it and when the words come out it feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. 

Sakusa’s eyes soften, inky black pools melting a little at the words. 

“I love you too.” He returns the words shakily, like he’s trying not to cry. “I’ve loved you for so long, since the first time I hit one of your tosses at that first training camp.” 

There are tears threatening to leak out of both of their eyes now, and Atsumu pulls him into his lap and wraps his arms around him, calloused setter hands rubbing small circles into Sakusa’s back. 

“I’ve loved you since I saw you,” Atsumu responds. He’s definitely crying now, from relief or happiness he can’t tell. “You were beautiful, even with the mask on and in that horrible shade of green, and you caught my eye. And then I saw you spike, and I knew I wanted to send you tosses. That was the start of it, actually, tossing to ya.” 

Sakusa lets out a watery laugh. “It’s always volleyball with us, isn’t it?” 

Atsumu laughs back but through the tears it sounds like a hiccup. 

“It is.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Sakusa says back, and Atsumu agrees. 

He knows this is a memory he’ll hold onto for as long as he can, ashes clasped tightly in his fists. 

Fuck the Inarizaki volleyball team’s motto. He has something better than it now, he has his memories and he has Sakusa Kiyoomi and while he doesn’t know how long it’s going to last, he’ll hold onto it for as long as he can. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
